


Remembrance

by Andaletahina



Category: D&D - Fandom, DnD - Fandom, DnD5e Fandom, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game), TTRPG - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Curse Breaking, Curses, Dark Past, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Faerûn, Fairy Tale Curses, First Night in New Town, Fluff and Angst, Forgotten Realms - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Memories, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Past Relationship(s), Rememberance, Self-Harm, Tears, Varisia, Witch Curses, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29248638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andaletahina/pseuds/Andaletahina
Summary: “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) SorceressFenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot BarbarianHa’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea)Adventuring group "The Fatefinders" have arrived in Varisia and spend the first night in the "Rusty Dragon" Inn - but old memories are bubbling up...
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My Fey'ri bard/draconic bloodline sorcereress Reina'riel Fatefinder has a rather long and in parts sad backstory. Even though we've been playing for over 2 years now, there are of course some things and still affect her behavior and I’ll try to turn that part of her “before adventuring” life into a bit more than two sentences :3
> 
> Fey'ri = half elf, half demon (think elven tiefling)  
> reverie = the trance like state that elves enter instead of sleeping

The Fatefinders had found their night’s rest in the dorm room of the “Rusty Dragon” Inn. Torla was fast asleep, her breath soft and quick, like that of a dreaming deer – not that she would appreciate the comparison, but Reina would take that anytime over that of her snoring like a bear. One was plenty, because Fenrik, who had turned over on his back, WAS trying his best to impersonate one at the moment.  
Ha’ron’s breaths were very deep and very slow. His face utterly serene in the few stray rays of moonlight. His thoughts lost in reverie – the trance like state, the elves entered for four hours every night instead of sleeping.

Reina looked around – something had pulled herself out of reverie. She knew that the senses of the others were usually more finely tuned to danger, so it was no wonder that nothing alarming was jumping out at her. A look outside the door and another out of the window did not show anything out of the ordinary.

Through the open door, the smell of smoke and beverages from the downstairs barroom had entered the sleeping room but instead of feeling reassured, that nothing was amiss a quiet unease tugged at her. She took a sip of water from the flask that normally hung from her belt but that she had put on the nightstand during their respite. Giving Fenrik a soft push, he rolled back on his side, making room for her to sit cross-legged beside him on the bed and blessedly calming the ruckus of his snoring down.

Reina did not want to wake her beloved. So, instead of putting her hands, which were always cold on his back to feel his breathing (as she wanted to do to reassure herself further), she placed them in her lap and let herself sink back into reverie.  
The memories came quickly. The trance had her re-live the feeling of passing through a fey-crossing and wandering through a forest. When she recognized the woods, a shiver passed through her. She noticed a few patches of snow among the trees, and remembered wondering, if she had stayed longer than planned in the Feywild.  
When the empty campground came into sight dread bubbled up inside her, turning the colors in starker contrast than they had been at the time.

“Wake up”, she commanded herself, “don’t re-live this memory.”

She had honed her voice into a weapon, a tool that commanded and made others obey, but her own mind did not listen. Remembering had been set into motion and she could not escape the past – not on her own and not until it had played out.

Her last thought, that was of the present, was that the scent of the tavern had carried the smoking herbs and tobacco that the Vistani preferred. Of course, her “helpful” subconscious had noticed it and chose the most painful cascade of memories to play out. Then the present fell away, mist disappearing under winter sunshine and she walked the muddy roads searching for her clan and for her husband…


	2. The weight of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenrik POV - the barbarian sees his beloved Reina in the clutches of unwanted memories and tries to pull her out of them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I skipped the actual nightmare part *hides*  
> But the Fenrik POV did not want to leave me alone and herding plot bunnies is hard work ;D
> 
> Song at the end is the middle part of the love song "My Luve Is Like A Red, Red Rose" by Robert Burns
> 
> “The Fatefinders” are a DnD5e party, playing since January 2019:  
> Reina’riel Fatefinder – female, Fey’ri (think elven tiefling), College of Glamour Bard/Draconic bloodline (silver) Sorceress  
> Fenrik Turgonson – male, human, Path of the Zealot Barbarian  
> Ha’ron Moonstrider – male, wood elf, Arcana Domain Cleric (of Mystra)  
> Torla – female, dwarf, Circle of the Moon Druid (of Chauntea)

He could not have said what woke him. Just that he knew. It had happened again.  
It was not that something was there – it was the absence of something, the absence of her.  
His beloved had closed the bond between them. The bond they shared ever since the autumn equinox they spent at the Autumn Court in the Feywild, where she professed her love for him and claimed him in front of the whole court. A bond that let them feel each other’s presence and discern their emotional state. But now where Reina should be, was a yawning void.  
Turning around – there she was. Sitting cross-legged beside him, slightly hunched over, her arms wrapped around herself in a hug, as if she was cold. At least that was what it looked like at first glance. By now, he knew better.  
She was not trying to keep warm; it was as if she subconsciously tried to keep herself together. In that “hug” her nails were dug so deep into the flesh of her upper arms, that they drew blood. She had tried to “wake up” and failed. The bond was closed up, because even in this state, she tried to protect him.

From the outside, she looked like she had looked so many years ago, when she read him the cards. Green eyed, dusky skinned, with raven dark looks.  
It was not was she really looked like… as a Fey’ri she was born with an “elven guise”.  
A guise to hide her true form. Donning and doffing it, was as easy as breathing to her – at least again. She had been “trapped” looking like this for slightly over 7 years. These days she never took this form, at least not consciously.  
Nowadays when she used this ability, she looked like her true form, but without the horns, scales, wings and claws. Just a pale, red haired elven maiden. Stunning, yes, but nothing out of the ordinary, or so she used to claim. Not so now. That old guise was back. Never a good sign.

Reina’s eyes were wide open. Seeing something, he could not. They looked strangely empty and lifeless. The color a bright cold green, not unlike glacial ice. She did not blink and tears were streaming freely from them. 

He moved into her field of vision. Kneeling in front of her, he gently held her shoulders. His gaze trying to catch hers.  
“Come back dearest”, he whispered.  
For the longest moment, nothing happened, and then Reina blinked. As her eyes opened again, the color had deepened back to their normal hazel.  
She took a deep breath. It sounded like a sigh. The elven guise melted away. Her true from was revealed – pale silvery horns sprouting from her temples, gracefully curving back over long auburn hair and pointy ears. Wings unfurled from her back, like a smaller version of a silver dragon’s wings with the coloration of a silk moth on the inside. Her skin a pale peaches and cream complexion, dotted with silver scales, like freckles. Right now, it looked paler than normal – as if something had leeched all the vitality from her. She also felt colder to the touch, than was normal.

Aside from the blink and the reverting of forms, she had not moved, or shown that she actually saw him. He frowned, worried and started softly prying her claws from her own flesh.  
She had dug deep gouges and there was blood, streaming as freely as the tears.  
He could not have said what was worse. Seeing his beloved tears, or the bleeding wounds. 

He took her face into his hands and with a kind but stern voice told her, “Heal your arms, please.”  
A small frown wrinkled her brow and drew the dark red brows down. A soft wince, as if she only now felt the pain. An almost invisible nod was given. One that he felt more with his hands, that held her face, than actually saw.  
She whispered a word and the wounds closed. Another word and the blood was gone, as if it never been there.  
He kissed her brow, whispering, “Good, well done” against her skin.  
Then moving to sit against the headboard of the bed, he pulled her into his lap. She was as silent, cold and compliant as a doll. Hugging her to himself, he rubbed his big hands over her freshly healed arms, trying to warm and revive her.

Elves rested different from humans. They did not sleep and did not dream. They entered a trancelike state called “Reverie” and relived their memories. From what Reina and Ha’ron told him, they did have some control about what memories they would revisit. However, sometimes traumatic and dark memories claimed them and it was hard to shake them off.  
Ha’ron also said that it was unwise to leave them unheeded or interrupt them. One should let them play out, as they were a way for the mind to heal.  
Fenrik was sure that if he saw Reina like this, he might reconsider this stance. 

Right now, his beloved was seemingly trapped between waking and dreaming, or Reverie or whatever. Not even the pain of the deep wounds could fully rouse her to herself from the nightmarish memories her mind pushed on her.  
He pressed her against his broad chest, her head coming to rest against his shoulder and his leaned his head on top of hers. Normally she would have giggled, because holding her like this his beard tickled her forehead. But still nothing. And the bond was still closed.

Pain could not reach her, moving her could not reach her – but he still had tricks up his sleeve to pull her out. Because he knew that his love would reach her, that there was something. Something that had worked in the past. Even though he always felt a bit foolish… he sighed, wasn’t everyone a fool for love?  
He rubbed a hand over his shaved scalp and down the knotted muscles of his neck and the feathery scars, which a lightning strike had left him with. One last look to her face – no change – he sighed again pulled her even closer and then started to sing so softly that only she could hear:

“So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,  
So deep in luve am I;  
And I will luve thee still, my dear,  
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,  
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;  
I will love thee still, my dear,  
While the sands o’ life shall run…”

His voice in her ear, Reina’s body started to relax and warm to his touch. A small sound like a sigh or sob escaped her. She wrapped her arms around him and although he would have sworn that they could not get closer, they somehow did. It was as if she tried to melt into him and disappear. He closed his own eyes in relief, a sigh of relief escaping him and hugged her so hard, that her ribs groaned. Why the rough and untrained voice of a Northman sailor singing could break the spell on his beloved’s mind, would be forever beyond him. But if it meant that the color would return to her face and life into her eyes and that the bond would open and he could feel her with him, body and soul? Then he would sing for her every night if need be…


End file.
